


Skulk

by Xela



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xela/pseuds/Xela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no place like home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skulk

Renard shivered as the car passed over the boundary of his territory, the feeling of belonging settling around him and something indefinable shifting in his chest. A week away from his lands engaging in politics had turned his muscles to stone with stress, made him irritable and standoffish. He could tell from the way Adalind spent the entire trip back silent and staring out the window.

Renard rubbed a hand over his head, down to nose, trying to relieve the week’s tension settled firmly behind his eyes.

“Take tomorrow off,” he said as the car turned down a familiar street. Adalind glanced at him, an eyebrow arched in disbelief. Renard smiled. He might be giving her a personal day, which freed Adalind from her duties to the crown, but she was still a junior partner in a law firm.

“If you don’t do the same I’ll tell Nick _and_ Monroe. Your Majesty.” Renard paused with his hand on the door, meeting Adalind’s gaze. She wasn’t his right hand for nothing, though, and he acknowledged her order as regally as he could. He could tell she was laughing at him as he climbed out of the car.

The car hovered until he made it inside. Renard paused in the entryway, taking a deep breath. The house smelled like cinnamon.

“Hey, you’re back! You look tired.” Nick took his small travel bag and pressed a whisper of a kiss to his lips before he could respond. Nick smiled, a little tug of his lips that stole Renard’s breath away, and pulled Renard towards the living room.

“Hello!” Juliette entered the hallway like a force of nature, absolute and inescapable. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him. She tasted like cinnamon and sugar. Her hands curled gently around the curve of his skull and her thumbs smoothed over the worry lines around his eyes. “Aw, you’re exhausted. Couch. Now.”

He followed them gladly, tension leeching away with every step. He let them push him onto the couch, pull and prod until they were tucked against his side, some undoubtedly insipid television show playing quietly on the TV. He closed his eyes and extended his sense outwards, let his Creature come to the fore, and took in the comforting mingle of scents and sounds and rhythms that made up this den. Three heartbeats, three alternating sets of breath that worked in harmony.

He flicked his tongue out, all the better to scent the air, and started when something warm and crumbly fell onto it. It was amazing--buttery and moist and the source of Juliette’s cinnamon-sugar flavor. He wasn’t surprised when a mouth pressed tentatively against his, following the morsel of cookie, beard scratching lightly at his skin. Monroe tried to pull away--still a little unsure, a little timid in their relationship, going from subject to consort and they’d have to work on that--but Renard freed a hand from his greedy humans and pulled Monroe, his loyal blutbad, closer, deepened the kiss until they were both breathless and panting.

He kept hold of Monroe even as he pulled back, just enough to take in Monroe’s face (flour in his beard), the fact that he was kneeling in front of Renard (indescribably hot), and wearing his ridiculous apron that featured a large wolf standing atop Renard’s crest and the words “FOOD IS COMING” in block lettering (Nick’s doing).

“Snickerdoodles are my favorite,” he said--one of many phrases he would never utter anywhere outside of this house.

“He knows, he’s been planning this since you left,” Nick said, nudging Monroe with his foot. Monroe blushed, skin heating underneath Renard’s hands, and ducked his head. Renard ran the pad of his thumb over his wolf’s cheekbone, tilted his head up slightly so their eyes met. Renard could see the moment of hesitation, the way he glanced to Renard’s lips and leaned forward but stopped himself, took a moment to think about it (whether he was allowed and could take liberties) before leaning in and pecking Renard on the lips. There and then gone, so fast.

“Dinner in ten, don’t start anything!” Monroe called, hightailing it into the kitchen.

“You suck the fun out of everything, Monroe!” Juliette yelled after him. The sound of clattering pans stopped and Monroe stuck his head out of the kitchen to pin Juliette with a smouldering, challenging look that made Juliette reassess her words and blush almost as red as her hair.

“Well she’s not exactly _wrong,_ ” Nick said, grinning. Monroe huffed and disappeared back into the kitchen to finish cooking. Juliette swatted at Nick, who reached over Renard to tickle her.

Renard smiled and let it all wash over him, washing away the past week until he felt settled down to his bones, two of his consorts beside him and one not far away. Later, he’d show them all know how much he’d missed them, but for now, it was good to just be _home._

**Author's Note:**

> A skulk is a group of foxes--analogous to pack from Renard's perspective.
> 
>  
> 
> [On LJ.](http://xela-fic.livejournal.com/166712.html)


End file.
